Win or Die
by euphemiafleurtrinket
Summary: Game of Thrones-inspired Hayffie AU, in which Haymitch is a Champion and Effie becomes his handmaiden, having been assigned to him after his drunken behaviour has scared away those who've worked for him in the past.
1. Chapter 1

_So after my failure with AU fics, I've decided to try another AU. I have this whole story planned out as opposed to just going with the flow as I usually do, so hopefully this one will work out a little better. It's rated 'T' for now but will be changed accordingly if need /The new season of Game of Thrones starts soon and I'm currently reading A Song of Ice and Fire so I thought…why not try throwing the world of The Hunger Games into that too. Obviously, this is going to be a Hayffie-centric story too. So yay. Here we go :) Any feedback, good or bad, it completely welcome. Think of this as a 'pilot' chapter, so I wanna know what you all think :)_

* * *

The clang of steel on steel in the courtyard was loud enough as it was, but the volume of it seemed to increase tenfold as it reverberated off the stone walls of Haymitch's /The man hated it. Certain rooms within the castle had carpeted walls, intending to absorb the sound noise but, naturally, Haymitch wasn't ranked high enough. He was just a mere Champion.

The process of selecting a Champion was a somewhat controversial one, a process which people didn't dare question. Coriolanus, the self-proclaimed ruler of the country of Panem, was a man who enjoyed brutal methods of entertainment, as did many residents living in the province surrounding the castle.  
Every summer was the height of entertainment and people tended to travel from far and wide for the main event- the Game of Champions. It was a grand affair, in which two residents from each of the 12 regions in Panem were selected to take part. These residents automatically became eligible at the age of 12 and then regained their immunity when they reached the age of 18. These residents became known as 'tributes' and were pitted against each other in a serious of tasks, until only one remained. The 'Champion' was given the great honour of residence in Coriolanus' castle, living a life of apparent luxury and mentoring the tributes every any given time, there were twelve of these champions living within the castle, each Champion being replaced by the next for each region. Since Haymitch won his Game at the age of 16, no one from the Twelfth Region had won. And now, at the age of 35, he'd been in that castle now for almost 20 years.

As he lay there in his bed, the heavy woollen blanket draped over the lower half of his body, he knew he'd overslept. The sounds outside told him that. Training always commenced at 9am sharp, whether Games season was in or not. Coriolanus liked his Champions to keep in shape, although he often deemed Haymitch to be a lost cause.  
Haymitch was strong and able to anticipate peoples' next moves better than most, but after seeing 19 years' worth of the tributes he'd mentored die, he'd succumbed to alcohol. And thankfully, the alcohol seemed to be on tap here.  
Despite the fact the alcohol seemed to numb some of the memories from his mind, it had caused him to put weight on and caused tremors in his limbs, making it almost impossible for him to efficiently train like he was required to. His hands often shook so much, he couldn't even hold a sword.

As he got out of bed and poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle on the dresser, he couldn't help but notice that something was amiss.

Of course…his escort hadn't turned up.

Each Champion was assigned someone to assist them, getting them ready, making sure they were at any training or tournaments on time. They were called 'escorts' but Haymitch had heard the term 'slave' tossed around far too many times. That's what they were, really. If they were from the province around the castle where they were immune to being chosen for the Games and Coriolanus deemed them desirable, they were chosen as escort.  
Most champions only had one of two escorts in their whole life. Haymitch, however, was onto his seventh.  
The alcohol, as well as making Haymitch's physical health deteriorate, also made him aggressive and volatile. Haymitch tended to scare people off, particularly in one of his drunken rages. That was why his escorts came and went. Coriolanus liked to pretend he cared, so he ensured his escorts were taken away from any dangers which could arise.  
As Haymitch got himself ready, he couldn't help but think that his latest escort had been removed too./p

xXx

The sword was heavy in it's scabbard slung across his shoulder, so he hitched the leather strap up a little higher as he walked. The long stone corridors were somewhat cool at the moment, the seasons fast changing from spring to summer. He hated training at this time of year. One would wrap up warm initially but be sweltering by the end of the session. But still, they needed to train. The Game would be starting in a few weeks and the Champions were expected to be of optimum strength and fitness, to set examples for their new tributes.

"Haymitch," a voice called out, making Haymitch lazily turn around.  
"Chaff," he nodded in the man's direction. "You're up early."  
"No, you're just up late," Chaff grinned, catching up to Haymitch so they could walk to the courtyard together.  
Chaff had been crowned a Champion three years after Haymitch and the pair had become fast friends. Well, not 'friends'. Haymitch wasn't entirely sure if their relationship extended beyond a mutual understanding of one another. Haymitch never liked to class himself as having friends, especially not in a world where one could lose people so easily. But at least Chaff was someone for him to talk to.  
"So," the man continued. "What's on your schedule today?"  
Haymitch shrugged, pausing to think for a moment.  
"Monday…" he said to himself. "Swordfighting until twelve, then archery at one."  
"Ah, that reminds me!" Chaff said suddenly. "Coriolanus has requested your attendance to a meeting after your morning session."/p  
It wasn't a new thing. Haymitch felt as if he spent the majority of his time in that man's office for one reason or another. His behaviour had put him under 'special watch', to make sure he didn't stray any further off the rails than he already had.  
"Sure," Haymitch nodded, patting Chaff's shoulder before heading off in the direction of the training area."

xXx

The training that morning was gruelling, the sun being surprisingly hot despite the fact the air was cold. By the time Haymitch had deposited his training gear in his chambers and made his way to Coriolanus' quarters, his muscles were aching.  
"What's your business here?" One of the guards said when Haymitch arrived.  
"Haymitch Abernathy," Haymitch responded. "Here for a meeting. I was told to be here for twelve and for once, I don't think I'm late."  
"The guard studied him for a moment before leading him inside, where Coriolanus was sitting behind a large oak desk.  
"Mr. Abernathy," the man said. "Do have a seat, although I don't plan to keep you that long."  
"Haymitch watched him carefully but lowered himself into a chair opposite him, not saying a word. Coriolanus, however, continued regardless.  
"Mr. Abernathy, I'm certain you noticed that dear Myrcella was not around to wake you this morning, did you not?"  
"Yes," Haymitch said. "I'm assuming she's gone?"  
"I felt it necessary to remove her after your drunken outbursts last night, yes," Coriolanus explained, leaning forward slightly and placing his hands on the desk. "You threatened her."  
"I don't remember that," Haymitch answered, but then again, he'd been drunk out of his mind last night.  
"Yes well, the past is the past, and we can do nothing but move forward," Coriolanus continued. "And to move forward, we have found you a new escort."  
"There's a surprise," Haymitch muttered under his breath, causing Coriolanus to narrow his eyes.  
"Now, she is not a lot younger than you are," Coriolanus said airily, gesturing to the guard beside the door, who promptly headed out. "Our hope is that, because of her age and maturity, she isn't going to be intimidated by your behaviour."  
Just then, the guard returned, a pretty blonde woman in a flowing peach robe by his side.

"Mr. Abernathy," the girl said, the most delicate of accents audible in her words. "My name is Euphemia."


	2. Chapter 2

_So here it is! Chapter 2! I'm sorry it took so long. I'm coming to the end of my university degree and it's shot my motivation to write. I actually started writing this chapter almost two months ago! Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!_

 _Also, please let me know what you think about this and about your opinions on having the two character perspectives in each chapter :) I wasn't too sure writing it, but maybe it works._

 _And also, thank you for the reviews that were left for chapter 1! I really appreciated them!_

* * *

Haymitch turned in his seat so he could get a better look at the new arrival. She looked to be no more than two or three years younger than he was. Maybe mentally, she would be able to handle him but physically? She was so small and thin, the polar opposite to the majority of escorts he'd had in the past. If he went after her in a drunken rampage…

He closed his eyes and heaved out a sigh before turning back to Coriolanus.

"Didn't you ever consider that it might be safer for me to just be left to my own devices?" Haymitch questioned. "You're wasting gold on this one. You know as well as I do that she'll be gone in a few months."

"Sir, if I might interrupt," Euphemia said in a quiet voice. "I'm not here to treat you as an infant, as I understand the majority of your past escorts have. No, I'm here to aid you into becoming the Champion everyone knows you can be."

"You're here to _mentor_ me?" Haymitch almost laughed as he spoke. "That's _my_ role, isn't it? Mentoring each set of new tributes each year?"

"Sometimes even our Champions require support in their roles," Coriolanus cut in. "Now, if you would…"

The man raised a gloved hand and Haymitch, along with Euphemia and her guard shuffled towards the door.

"Mr. Abernathy," Coriolanus called him back, waiting for the man to return to his seat once the door was closed before he spoke again. "Before you leave, I intend to make one thing inexplicably clear to you."

"Yes, sir," Haymitch responded, fighting the urge to frown or throw out some sarcastic comment.

"Consider this to be your final warning," Coriolanus continued. "Your reputation is having an incredibly detrimental effect on those in our country. You're making the Game a laughing stock, which is leading to people not taking it seriously."

"Yes but-"

"Do not interrupt," Coriolanus held up a hand. "You know very well what happens to my Champions who cause problems."

Haymitch nodded grimly. His own Game was something he very rarely spoke about or intentionally thought about. But the story was well known in Panem.

The final stage of Haymitch's Game had been between himself and the girl from the First District. The finale had taken place in an open arena, with several hundred spectators there, most of them begging for blood. The pair had been armed with nothing more than a sword each and the battle between them would extend until one of them was dead. Haymitch knew he had the upper hand with his size and strength, but the girl was _fast._ Haymitch had to remain extremely focussed if he wanted to make it out of this alive. By now, he'd killed two of his fellow tributes in previous tournaments in the competition- Haymitch was a _very_ skilled horseman, so the jousting aspect of the competition on the first day had already made him a favourite when he took out the tribute from the Tenth District in the first forty-five seconds. He was dangerous and his mind was too focussed on winning to care about adding a third death to his kill count.  
As the trumpet sounded from high up in the stands and Coriolanus announced that the fight was to begin, Haymitch was already on the move, his sword held tightly in his right hand as he advanced on the girl. The battle was brutal and bloody and close to the end, the girl was already worse off than he was. He'd caught the left side of her face with the tip of his sword, blinding her and knocking her aim off.  
But it wasn't enough to stop her disarming him.  
He knew he needed to act fast if he wanted to see another sunset, so he did the unthinkable- he moved swiftly and, before anyone could react, wrestled a spear out of the hands of one of the guards stationed around the perimeter. His overarm throw was another strong skill of his and he advanced close enough to the girl to precisely throw the spear between her eyes, however he was also close enough for her to slash his stomach open, prompting him to collapse to the ground at the same time as she did. But the difference was, he was alive. How long for, he didn't know. The congregation of guards around him with their spears pointed dangerously close to him told him otherwise.  
It was at that point that he passed out cold.  
From the moment he woke up three days later, he wished he'd just died. His first outing from the hospital in a wheelchair was to the castle's walls, where the bodies of his mother, brother and girlfriend were strung up for all to see.  
Haymitch knew then and there that the Games weren't intended for the intelligent, and intelligence had a cost.  
He added three more to his own kill count that day.

And here he was, twenty-one years later, sitting in the office of the man who'd cased him so much trauma for all of his adult life.

"Good," Coriolanus said in response to the nod. "Now, leave, and remember what I've said."

xXx

Euphemia wasn't one to believe in rumours. She's heard the other girls in the Escort Quarters talking about Haymitch before she'd even introduced herself and stated that she would be working about the man in question. Apparently, he had quite the reputation as a scoundrel, but to Euphemia, all of that would just be hearsay until she was proven otherwise.

And she was proven otherwise no more that three hours after she met him in Coriolanus' office.

She'd been called over by one of the guards to inform her that Haymitch had skipped out on his afternoon training and had instead gotten drunk, harassing two of the servant girls in the courtyard.  
The guard's request for Euphemia to attend to Haymitch in his quarters was met with a roll of her eyes, but she obeyed and made her way down the stone corridor to the spiral staircase, where she began her ascent up the Tower of Champions. Haymitch's quarters were easily located, as he was at the top of the tower.  
 _I'm surprised he hasn't drunkenly fallen down all these steps and broken his neck,_ Euphemia mused as she pushed open the door, but her thoughts were soon taken over by the sight of the man before her.

He was lounged on the bed, naked save for the stained sheets covering his groin, dead to the world with a half-empty wine bottle clutched in his hand. Some of the red liquid had spilled out, forming a red pool on the bedding. It made Euphemia groan in disgust, but she reminded herself that she wasn't going to be defeated and began to tidy up.

It appeared that Haymitch had gone on a rampage too in his drunken state, evidenced by the askew furniture, smashed glass on the floor and clothes strewn all over the room. Euphemia began by gathering the clothes, struggling to discern what was clean and what was soiled. She figured she'd organised it eventually, leaving two piles beside the door before she located a sweeping brush in the closet and began to sweep the floor.

She'd just finished pushing the chest of drawers back into its designated space when she felt herself roughly slammed against the wall, her right cheek and arm taking the brunt of the impact. Most alarmingly, she could feel the cold metal of a blade pressed to her throat.

"Who the _fuck_ are you?" A low growl, which Euphemia soon realised was Haymitch.

"Sir, it's me," Euphemia said, her voice trembling no matter how hard she tried to remain calm. One movement and that knife would slit her throat. "Euphemia…"

She could feel Haymitch's grip loosed slightly and she knew perhaps the realization was hitting him. But he still didn't move entirely.

"Why are you in here?" He asked, his words slurred. "No one gave you permission."

"I…I'm your escort. I was sent here to keep you safe. That's why I was in here."

"Fucking escorts…" he snarled but moved away in that moment, depositing the knife on the bedside cabinet before he perched himself on the edge of the bed, looking up at the woman with his hair covering half of his face. "Neither use nor ornament."

The comment made Euphemia raise an eyebrow and she turned fully to look at him.

"Sir Abernathy, since I came here, it is clear to me that I am of more use to you than I am to anyone else," she retorted. "You'll most likely die without someone here to supervise you."

"So let me die, then," he snarled. "You owe me nothing."

"I'm aware of that," she said. "But I'd appreciate if you'd accept my assistance instead of holding a knife to my throat-."

"They should have told you not to wake me," he cut in. "Especially when I'm having nightmares."

"You didn't appear to be hav-"

"My entire damn life is a nightmare. They should have kept you far away from me."


	3. Chapter 3

_Finally, chapter 3 is finished! I think it's the longest chapter so far at just over 1500 words too :) Anyway, enjoy! And I hope you like the first real *moment/not really a moment* between Hayffie :)_

 _As always, please please let me know what you think :) all reviews are appreciated!_

* * *

It was five days since the incident in Haymitch's quarters and, much to Haymitch's surprise, Euphemia was as persistent as she had been that very first day. She flitted in and out like a hummingbird, leading him to coin her with the nickname of 'Little Bird'.  
At least it seemed to annoy her. Maybe if he was as persistent as she was, she'd leave him alone.  
They hadn't spoken about what had happened in the days that had passed and, for some unknown reason, it began to irritate Haymitch to the point where he simply had to bring it up that evening as he sat on the chair by the window in his quarters, watching Euphemia filling the bathtub by the fire. The woman was insisting on Haymitch having daily baths, under the threat of her having one of the particularly unkind male guards come and force him to if he refused.

"Little Bird?" He asked, leaning forward and propping his arms on his knees as he watched her turn to him. "Why is it you're still here? You know, after the other night? Didn't it scare you?"  
The silence told Haymitch that Euphemia was thinking, and then she spoke.

"I happen to have dealt with much more frightening men than you," she said, quickly turning her back on him before Haymitch even had the chance to ask her to elaborate. "And it's my duty to be here. I'm not going to flee like you want or expect me to."

"'Want' is right," Haymitch said, sucking in a breath. "'Expect' is a foolish thing."

"Of course it is," Euphemia responded, stepping back from the bathtub and propping her wet hands on her hips. "Your bath is ready."

Haymitch watched with a frown as she left abruptly, questioning whether or not something more lay in her words. Shrugging it off, he undressed and clambered into the bathtub, allowing the warm water to wash away the aches from the day.

xXx

Euphemia's brisk footsteps echoed loudly off the stone walls as she made her way down the staircase and towards the Escort Chambers.  
Her brief conversation with Haymitch had filled her head with memories she wanted to push aside and she told herself a brisk walk around the city would help her with doing just that.  
Although the air in the Capitol was warm, there was a chilled wind coming in from the east, signifying that the spring season was just clinging on as summer pushed its way in. Euphemia decided that she would benefit from wearing a light cloak over the thin cotton robe she'd been given on her arrival.  
With the cloak around her shoulders, she left the Escort Chambers and made her way towards the door leading out onto the street…only to be stopped by the guard.

"Excuse me, please," she said as politely as she could, trying to sidestep the man only to be met with him barricading the door with his spear.

"You can't pass," he grunted, making Euphemia frown.

"Why in the heavens not?"

"You're an escort," the guard responded in a tone which made it sound like the most obvious thing in the world. "You may not leave the castle. You have courtyards should you wish to go outside."

"What on earth do you mean?" Euphemia had folded her arms across her chest now, her brows furrowed. "I have every right to walk the streets around the castle. Now, if you would. Stand down."

"It isn't in my jurisdiction to allow you to pass, ma'am," the guard was persistent. "You are here under contract, and that contract states that you shall stay within the confines of this castle."

Euphemia opened her mouth to argue, but decided it was a fruitless endeavour and turned on her heel, locating the nearest courtyard and perching herself on a bench in the sunshine.  
A contract? She'd signed no such thing, and the other escorts had made no mention of it. Perhaps it had been forgotten about when she arrived, due to her being assigned to the Capitol's most notorious Champion. Too much time had been dedicated to filling her in on the risks she might face when working with Haymitch, it didn't surprise her that a simple piece of paper had been so easily cast aside.  
She decided not to dwell on it too much, but she couldn't quite shake the feeling of unease at being trapped for the rest of her life.

 _Better to focus on what's important right now,_ she told herself, before pushing herself up into a standing position and heading back to her quarters.

xXx

The loud knocking on the door coupled with the shrill voice of that _godforsaken_ escort made Haymitch wake with a start, the now-cool bathwater splashing all over the floor as he jumped up out of the bathtub.

 _Sensible,_ he mused. At least she'd stayed outside the room to summon him in case he'd fallen asleep. Which he clearly had.  
Judging by the midday sunshine outside the window and the cold water, he could gather that he'd been asleep for at least an hour and a half.  
Grumbling to himself, he hastily threw a towel around his waist and wrenched the door open, frowning down at the tiny blonde woman before him…he'd never realised how pretty she was up close.

"Are you quite finished, Little Bird?" He growled, trying to distract himself from the stupid thoughts he was having. He wasn't exactly sober right now, having been drinking steadily since he woke up before dawn, so he decided to put his thoughts down to the lack of clarity in his mind.

"I'm bringing your clothing for your training session this afternoon," Euphemia said, her gaze solely focussed on his face. She ducked under his arm and entered the room with the bundle of clothes in her arms before he had the chance to stop her. "And please, refrain from using such childish nicknames. I'm in no sort of mood."

"Well when you stop flitting around incessantly, I'll stop," he responded, taking the pile of clothes from her and dumping them on the bed, relishing at the way Euphemia pursed her lips in annoyance at his action. "Are you intent on standing here and watching me get ready, Little Bird? I'm not sure we're on that level in which you seeing me in my naked glory is appropriate."  
If he'd been paying attention, he'd have seen her blush.

"I assure you, I wont be looking," Euphemia retorted, before busying herself with the arduous task of emptying the bathtub. It would be a simple exercise for someone with greater strength than she had, but Euphemia was only able to use a small pail to carry the water to the drainage system attached to the window-ledge of Haymitch's quarters.  
She was onto her seventh trip between the bathtub and the window when she accidently looked up, her eyes instantly locking on Haymitch. He was stood with his back to her, still pawing through the clothes he'd deposited on the bed.  
Euphemia didn't realise she was staring, watching how the muscles of his back flexed each time he moved. The sight made her think things no lady should ever think and she only snapped out of her trance when Haymitch spoke.

"What is it, Little Bird?" The man smirked. "You've never seen a half-naked man before?"

Euphemia was so embarrassed, so ashamed to have been caught. She gave him a firm shake of her head.

"I'm just amazed how long it's taking you to get ready," she recovered quickly. "Truly, Coriolanus is displeased with you enough as it is. You don't want to anger him more by being late to your training."

"He's fucked me up enough already," Haymitch grimaced, pulling the heavy woollen shirt over his upper body. "You'll realise it too once you've been here a couple of months. He gets to everyone eventually."

The words made Euphemia think back to her encounter with the guard earlier, about how she was essentially imprisoned here.

"Haymitch, what do you know about escort contracts?" She asked.

The question caused a frown to appear on Haymitch's face before he ducked behind the divide in the corner of the room to pull his pants on.

"I know that every escort who comes to the castle signs one," he said, stepping back out and moving back over to the bed to pick up the leather vest, shrugging it on. "It basically tells you your rights. We had to sign one too when we became Champions."

"I was never given any such contract," Euphemia said. Now it was her turn to frown.

"Well, it'll have been signed by whoever it was who sent you here," Haymitch said nonchalantly, sitting down to lace up his boots.

"My father sent me…" Euphemia's voice trailed off. "Haymitch, did my father sell me to Coriolanus?"

"How should I know?" Haymitch sighed, standing up again. "I don't pay attention to how this escort thing works. Mine are never around long enough for me to care."

He then picked up his armoured breastplate and left the room at that, leaving Euphemia alone with her thoughts once more.


End file.
